


this madness

by 10softbot



Category: NCT (Band), UNIQ (Band)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Mafia, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:20:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22178170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10softbot/pseuds/10softbot
Summary: “I’m sure you are aware of where you’re coming to play.”The man seems to be deep in thought, but only for a moment. He nods knowingly, placing his helmet between his legs. “Second place racers only get money around here because it is where the mafia comes to play, and they know they can’t win against me.”“Wang Yibo.”“Dong Sicheng. Fancy seeing you here.”
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Wang Yi Bo
Comments: 29
Kudos: 71





	this madness

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is kinf of set in the warning universe, but it is pre-warning, meaning: you don't need to read warning to know what is going on, seeing as this is a pwp. all you need to know is that sicheng is part of the chinese mafia, yibo is an underground racer, and they are just two hot boys being hot for each other.
> 
> thank you mon, who so willingly let me drag her into yibo hell, and even more so into this ridiculous yiwin agenda
> 
> starting 2020 off in absolute madness. this is just me pushing my own yiwin agenda. i'm screaming into the void, and boy does it feel nice. i don't have a beta and i don't tend to read over my shit before posting, so any mistake is my own and i will eventually catch them!  
> don't translate, repost, etc etc.

The crowd is already dispersing when Sicheng walks over. He is not in a rush, unlike everyone who is around him, who seem to be in the need to flee the scene as fast as they can, like they shouldn’t be there to begin with. Sicheng laughs, mostly to himself. They really shouldn’t.

He approaches the racer seconds before he takes his helmet off. Sicheng leans against the shiny black motorbike, waiting to be acknowledged. The man, though, never does. They stare at each other for a few seconds before Sicheng lays his hand on the bike, tapping it lightly.

“How much do you want for her?” he asks, cocking his head to the side, watching the man carefully.

The man looks almost… bored. “She’s not for sale.”

Sicheng smiles. “She doesn’t seem to be fast enough to get you first place, though?”

The man gives him a lopsided smile. “Being first place flocks attention to the racer, and I don’t really want that.” He stares at Sicheng, cocking his head as well. “Though it doesn’t really seem to have worked?”

“Please,” Sicheng allows his shoulders to relax, if only the slightest bit. “I’m sure you are aware of where you’re coming to play.”

The man seems to be deep in thought, but only for a moment. He nods knowingly, placing his helmet between his legs. “Second place racers only get money around here because it is where the mafia comes to play, and they know they can’t win against me.”

“Wang Yibo.”

“Dong Sicheng. Fancy seeing you here.” The corners of his mouth start pulling into a smile. “Is your boss in need of something? A new bike? I can tell you which model to buy.”

Sicheng waves him dismissively. “I am not here for work, save your breath. If you don’t want money for the bike, then how much do you want to go back to my place with me?”

“Think I’m desperate for money like that?” Yibo clutches his chest dramatically. “You wound me.”

Sicheng raises a brow, and Yibo waves him off, motioning for him to get on. None of them mention the lack of an extra helmet; though Sicheng should have come prepared when he knew full well what he was coming for, he doesn’t really care. He knows Yibo can be insane at times, but Sicheng knows he isn’t one to harm other.

Yibo is, hands down, the best underground racer Sicheng has ever seen. He dares not say that aloud, much less when he knows mainland has ears everywhere, at all times, but everyone knows that to be true. The only races he doesn’t win are the ones he does not want to win, like the one from tonight, and Sicheng finds that extremely hot.

That, and just how good Yibo looks in a leather jacket.

This is not their first time meeting, and it is far from being the last. Yibo likes to act like he doesn’t know Sicheng, and Sicheng plays along with it. It is mostly for his own safety, though Sicheng doubts anything bad would happen to him just because he is sleeping around with someone from the mafia. He doesn’t question, and Yibo never talks about it.

It is good, he thinks. They work just fine like that.

Yibo comes to a stop in front of Sicheng’s building, and Sicheng tries not to think about how he doesn’t need directions to get there at this point. It either says something about him or Yibo himself, but Sicheng thinks it doesn’t matter. Yibo parks his bike and gives Sicheng the laziest smile he can muster. Sicheng tries to keep a cold face as he walks into his building.

There is nothing cold about Yibo’s hands under his shirt or his lips on his neck. Sicheng feels like his body is being set alight with every trail of his fingers on his skin, of his lips kissing up his neck and under his jaw and just about the corner of his lips. Sicheng grabs Yibo by his jacket and pulls him closer, wishing their bodies could merge together.

“What is it that you want?” Yibo asks right before he kisses Sicheng on the lips, and Sicheng doesn’t get the chance to reply.

Sicheng pushes Yibo against his front door, Yibo’s head banging hard against the wood as Sicheng kisses him harder, deeper. He licks across Yibo’s lower lip and Yibo opens up for him with ease, sliding his tongue against Sicheng’s. Sicheng knows he tastes like cheap beer, and Yibo tastes like breath mints, and the combination is downright awful, but the kiss is so good he can’t find it in him to complain.

Yibo kisses him fervently, like this is the last time they’re doing this, and it sends something through Sicheng’s body that ends up on his dick, turning him on. The glide of their tongues makes his head spin; he doesn’t think he's ever met anyone who is as good of a kisser.

He pushes his hands against Yibo’s jacket until it slides off his shoulders, and Yibo only gets his hands off him for as long as the jacket takes to hit the floor. He grabs Sicheng’s shirt by the hem and they are forced to part, panting, lips bitten red.

“Anything,” Sicheng breathes, and Yibo pulls the black shirt over his head. Sicheng hates how overly dressed Yibo still is. He tugs on Yibo’s shirt, irritated, trying to get it off too, and Yibo does him the favor of getting it off. Sicheng groans when he sees his naked chest, like he's never seen it before.

Yibo smirks. “Let’s take this to your bed, then.”

Sometimes, Sicheng is glad his patience wears thin so quickly. His bedroom is only a few strides away from the front door, and soon enough he is pushing Yibo down his mattress, hands flat on his chest, knees straddling his hips. Yibo licks at the base of his neck, sinking his teeth on the spot.

“I’m going to kill you if that leaves a mark,” Sicheng grunts, pressing their crotches together, knowing that is a lie.

“No, you won’t,” Yibo reads right through him, smile on his lips and against his skin as he moves to the other side and does the same.

Sicheng, as his fingers reach for the button and zipper on Yibo’s pants, doesn’t think he's ever been this angry at clothes before. He isn’t needy, he isn’t desperate, he just really needs to get off. On Yibo, preferably. He pushes Yibo harshly, sending him further back on his bed, takes the moment to undo his own jeans in hopes the other will get his message without him having to spell it out for him.

“You’re really bad at communicating,” Yibo points out, pulling his pants and underwear down his legs. Sicheng raises a brow at him.

“We’ve all got our flaws, mind your business.”

“Thought you wanted me to get in your pants?”

Insufferable. Sicheng climbs into bed and Yibo smirks, like he has won something. Sicheng is in his bubble again, snaking his fingers into his hair and holding on tight, pulling him close and licking at the seam of his lips. Yibo sighs into it, leans into his touch, and Sicheng’s head spins with how easily Yibo opens up for him.

The kiss is bruising, and their teeth clash, and it would be downright awful if they weren’t so close, and Yibo’s dick wasn’t pressing against Sicheng’s thigh, hard. Sicheng moans into the kiss and Yibo swallows every bit of it, sighing when Sicheng presses closer.

Sicheng wishes Yibo was loud, but that is not who he is.

He is all about sighs and soft mewls, about biting down on his lip or the back of his hand when it all starts getting too much. Right now, he is biting on Sicheng’s lower lip, leaving it raw, bruising. Sicheng reaches down and takes Yibo’s cock in his free hand, slowly dragging it down to the base and all the way up to the tip.

Where he has Yibo’s thighs caged between his legs, he can feel them twitch.

Sicheng pushes him down until he has his back flat on the bed, kissing him deeper when his hands come up to rest on Sicheng’s waist, nails digging into his skin. Sicheng pulls back from the kiss only long enough to spit into his palm, and Yibo’s back arches when he rubs the now slick hand over his cockhead, mixing saliva with precum.

He knows it feels good with the way his cheeks change in color and the way his nails dig more aggressively into his body, muscles tensing under his touch. He wraps his fingers around his dick and jerks him once, twice, thumbing at his slit and almost making him moan out loud.

Sicheng smiles, mostly to himself.

“Come on,” Yibo whispers, and his voice is hoarse, “I thought you wanted to get off.”

He feels his cock pulse in his hand. “In a hurry?”

Yibo lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Yes, actually.”

Sicheng noses along his law, pressing kisses to his skin. He takes his earlobe between his teeth, toying with him, picking up the pace of his wrist, and he loves to hear his breathing getting faster, the pressing of his fingers more urgent. Sicheng chuckles when Yibo digs his thumbs into his hipbones.

“Since you’re being so nice.”

Sicheng align their dicks together, and his own thighs shake at how good the contact feels. He wraps both his hands around them, holding their dicks steady, and he is already so hard and leaking it hurts. Yibo kisses his collarbones as he works his hands, movements slow as he tries not to lose his mind so soon.

It feels good, so good, and he is watching Yibo closely for every change in his expression. His brows draw closer in a furrow with every upstroke, every time he runs his palm over his cockhead, and then down all the way to the base, pinky and ring fingers curling down towards his balls.

Yibo gasps and Sicheng knows he is losing it. There is the familiar coiling in his stomach and the buzzing in his ears, his head dropping on his shoulder when Yibo brings his hands from his sides up to his nipples, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over the buds. Sicheng moans, unfiltered and unrestrained, and Yibo laughs around a choked-up moan of his own.

Sicheng lets go of their cocks and places his hands on either side of Yibo’s head, holding tightly onto the pillow. There is sweat on his hairline, on his back, and he pants as he thrusts his hips, just once. Yibo’s back arches again and he thrusts, too, making his cock glide against Sicheng’s.

Sicheng picks up the pace of his thrusting, barely matching with Yibo’s, but none of them seem to care. They are chasing their own pleasure, in desperate need to get off, and with the way his muscles tremble Sicheng knows he isn’t going to last.

Yibo’s hips are the first to stutter, knees bending as he digs his heels into the mattress and thrusts harder against Sicheng. His hands move from his chest to Sicheng’s back, pressing him down, holding him steady, and Sicheng knows he is about to come when his breathing comes out short and his moves still.

Yibo comes against his chest in hot spurts, coating his skin and his dick, and the feeling is too much for Sicheng to handle. The coiling in his stomach snaps and he goes numb for a second when he comes, too, spilling over Yibo as he moans, his heart racing.

He collapses on his bed next to Yibo, panting, trying to catch his breath. His head spins and his room feels too stuffy, his skin sticky with both their cum. Yibo laughs, low and breathy, placing a hand on Sicheng’s thigh. Sicheng reaches for him, patting his hand twice before pushing it off him.

Yibo laughs again. “Are you kicking me out already?”

Sicheng hums. “Stay, if you want. You know I don’t care.”

Yibo rolls off bed, looking for his clothes. Sicheng watches him as he walks to the bathroom to clean himself off, his head still beating loudly in his ears. When he comes out, he is fully dressed, smile wide on his lips.

“I will be on my way, then. Thanks for the fun.”

Sicheng dismisses him, and Yibo walks out of his room. When he is already at the door, turning the doorknob, Sicheng gets on his feet and stops at the doorframe of his bedroom. Yibo looks back at him, almost curious.

“Win the race next time,” Sicheng ways with a half-smile.

Yibo rolls his eyes and walks right out.

“Fuck you!”

**Author's Note:**

> so this was a thing. happy new yeah i guess!
> 
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